


I Needed to See Your Face

by Blue_sky_home



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fix-It, I don't know what I've started, John is a Mess, M/M, Pre and Post Reichenbach, Sherlock is trying, Sherlock's Funeral
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-27
Updated: 2018-10-26
Packaged: 2019-08-08 04:48:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16422695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blue_sky_home/pseuds/Blue_sky_home
Summary: John moves back to Baker Street after Sherlock's return. But there is so much left unsaid. Each day brings a new challenge to finding each other but Sherlock has vowed he'll do whatever it takes.





	I Needed to See Your Face

**Author's Note:**

> Hello all! Quite honestly... I don't know what this is yet. I have an idea, but...
> 
> This will be multiple short chapters about John and Sherlock rebuilding after Sherlock's return. Some chapters may be longer than others, but my goal is to post every other day until I am satisfied with where our boys are going. Thank you for reading my ridiculous drabbles. Please enjoy and /or feel free to leave constructive criticism!
> 
> Unbeta'd and not Brit picked
> 
> Come chat with me on Twitter @nomatterthesky!

"Did anyone ever tell you about your funeral?" John asked, staring down at his drink. His lips were a tight, straight line, his hand swirling his glass thoughtfully, restlessly. Sherlock could barely see the flush of alcohol creeping up his neck in the light of the fire. 

"I thought it wise not to ask," Sherlock said, gazing into the flames.

Silence hung between them. In fact, Sherlock had asked several times, in the days after coming back from the dead. Vague, flippant remarks to Mycroft that were immediately scoffed at, silent pleas over dead bodies with Molly, who would freeze and find an excuse to leave. Sherlock had been desperate to figure out why, WHY John had been so angry upon his return. He wasn't an idiot; he knew what he had done was more than just trickery. He'd often had plenty of time, during his little excursion, to switch roles with John. Imagine watching John take that fateful leap. His very visceral reaction frightened him. But John had always been a man who sought the truth. His unwillingness to do so in this case was... frustrating.

John remained quiet, his eyes unfocused now, his mind wandering. A small frown tugged at one corner of his lip, a quick grimace that was gone as soon as it had appeared. John sniffed once, a sure sign of his building anger and set his glass down on the side table next to his chair. It clattered loudly in the otherwise silent room. John stood quickly, stiff and formal, gave Sherlock a tight nod. He was gone before Sherlock could say anything.

It had been six months since John had come home. There had been nights like this since his return, not many, but a few. Nights when John stared right through him or wide eyed as if seeing a ghost. Nights when there was more scotch than tea and John's voice took on a low rumble like thunder in the distance. But tonight felt different. An electric current crackled through the air.

This felt like a storm was coming. Sherlock gripped the arms of his chair tightly, as if bracing himself so the winds wouldn't carry him away.


End file.
